Page 94 of Cara & Gian: The Guzzi Duet

“Why would anyone tell you not to be with me, Gian?”

That time, he was the one to look away.

Cara didn’t miss it.

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter.”

She wondered if it should, though.

“Say it, again,” Cara demanded.

Gian—once more—didn’t hesitate. “I love you, Cara.”

It became easier to hear each time he said it.

It became easier to believe.

It became easier to understand.

“I want you to say it back,” he told her, “but I don’t need you to say it because I want you to. I don’t need you to say something that scares you enough to send you running away from me for three weeks, only to call me when you can’t take it anymore. I don’t need you to justify what I already know, amore.”

“But?”

“But I do need you to be with me, Cara. That’s all.”

An older gentleman slipped down the aisle, making Cara move closer to Gian to avoid being bumped into by the guy’s shoulder. She didn’t mind.

She liked it there.

“I do, though,” she said.

“Hmm?”

“Love you, Gian.”

His smile grew and he kissed her quickly before pulling her into his side. Heading toward the cash with a six-pack under his arm, and a bottle of wine in her hand, Cara felt … settled. For the first time in weeks, she was okay.

“Now do we go back to pretending like we’re good and the last few weeks didn’t happen?” Cara asked.

“There’s no need to pretend. We’re perfect, mon ange. We always were.”

“In a crazy way, maybe.”

“In our way,” Gian murmured before he kissed the top of her head.

So, maybe loving this man wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Maybe.

“Now, we’re going to go to your place, put one of those ugly fucking rom-com things on you like, get drunk, and then fuck tomorrow morning away,” he told her as he sat the liquor down on the counter.

The cashier’s eyes widened, and her cheeks pinked as she reached for the wine first to ring it through. “Usually, I’m supposed to greet customers, but I’m not sure what to say right now, so excuse me for saying nothing.”

Gian flashed the girl a smile. “Just tell me what I owe.”

“Thirty-five, twenty-two,” the girl said faintly.

Cara couldn’t even bother to feel embarrassed as she shook her head. “You are awful, Gian.”